Alex rushed through busy streets, a burlap sack thrown over his shoulders. The backer waved at him as he ran. “Ho! Alex!” He yelled kindly as he tossed the boy a hot roll. Alex waved back excitedly, and stuffed the freshly baked bread into his mouth. His taste buds burst with sweet flavors of cinnamon and sweet dough. He darted through gruff men, bustling ladies, and laughing children who noisily examined the goods in the marketplace. When he passed the tailor, two silver-haired women greeted him happily from their spinning wheels. He smiled back, and heaved the pack off his shoulders.
Alex tossed the bag gently over to them, and newly picked apples spilled at the ladies’ feet. “My mom wanted me to give you these!” He stated proudly. The two women laughed with grateful smiles as Alex gave a clownish bow. He scuttled through the streets, passing busy venders and talkative buyers. Squeezing through two carts that blocked his way, he stumbled across the cobblestone courtyard. In front of him, the bright summer sun glinted off a regal manor. It was constructed of sparkling white sandstone, and had large, oak doors. They were beautifully carved, with pictures of enchanted swords, and noble knights. Arched windows were expertly placed into the stone walls, allowing the warm daylight to fill the halls inside. The steps up to the ingress were lined with marble and onyx, and had a railing that was painted with gold.
Alex skipped up the grand steps to the impressive entrance. He reached above his head, grabbed the heavy brass knocker, and pulled it back. It slipped from his small fingers, and bounced against the door, sending a ringing thud through the air. Alex fidgeted on the stairs as he waited. After a few moments, he looked up at the sun, shielding his hazel eyes with his hand. It was nearly time for James’ and his music lesson. James was Alex’s best friend. He had been since his father, Lord Armastav, saved Alex’s mother from being run over by a wild horse. From that moment on, James’ and Alex had done everything together.
Alex pulled back the large knocker, and let it crash into the door again. He shuffled impatiently, waiting for James’ butler, Hanz, to come. Hanz had never taken this long to open the outstanding entrance, and motion for Alex to cross the threshold. James’s father did not allow his servants to be lethargic. He gripped the large door handle and pushed the dense door in. The entry slowly opened like a gaping mouth.
Inside was strangely quiet. The Armastav manor typically boasted a cheery demeanor, but today there was a strange weight in the air. Alex snuck in, feeling like an unwelcome intruder instead of a beloved guest. He jumped nervously as the door slammed behind his back. He shook with fear, as he tiptoed though the empty hall. The tall ceiling didn’t seem welcoming today, and the gray tiles reminded him of a violent thunderstorm.
Suddenly the eerie silence was broken by an injured yelp and a loud crash. Alex rushed toward the source of the sound, his leather shoes flapping against the stone floor. He rounded the corner into the family room, and stopped short. James was sprawled on the ivory rug, his blue eyes staring blankly up at Alex. An arrow protruded from his chest, and dark blood stained is silk tunic. The rug was splattered with his gore. On the settee, Lady Armastav’s head was thrown back, an arrow embedded in her throat. Alex choked on the bile building in his esophagus.
Alex heard a struggle from across the room. His eyes darted over, and he saw two men struggling. Shards of glass from a decorative vase covered the floor, and its pedestal was knocked over. Alex recognized one man as Lord Armastav. The Lord’s handsome face was smeared with gore. A man had him pinned to the wood floor with his knees, and was striving to plunge the cold dagger he was holding into the Lord’s bared neck. The man had a quiver of arrows and a bow strung across his back and a murderous grin across his face. The Lord fought desperately with the man, gripping his wrists, and barely stopping the blade from piercing his skin.
Alex was terrified at the sight in front of him. He let out an involuntary whimper, tears building in his eyes. Lord Armastav’s eyes shot up and met his. When he saw the twelve year old boy, the Lord’s dark eyes grew sad. The man took the advantage, and drove the dagger into the base of his neck. He jerked the knife out, letting the Lord’s blood flow across the polished wood.
The man turned his attention to Alex. Alex took a small step back, feeling the blood drain from his face from terror. The man roughly grabbed Alex’s wrists, his cold blue eyes staring into his. Alex struggled weakly, but the man pressed the slippery handle of the knife into his hand. Alex felt the warm blood on the handle; felt the man’s gory fingers clasped his small hand around it. The man grinned, exposing his rotten teeth and slinked out of the room.
Alex stood in a beam of sun that came through the clean windows, but despite the warm summer weather, he felt as cold as the corpses around him. He stared down at the knife, his mind numb with shock. Carnage dripped from the devilish blade. Behind him, Alex heard the clink of armor. He spun round and found the doorway to the room filled with burly guards. Alex was filled with relief. “I need help,” he squeaked.
“You killed the Armastav family,” one of the guards growled.
Alex’s relief vanished and was replaced by horror, “No!” He choked, “It wasn’t me!”
The guard took an angry step forward, but Alex lurched back, the dagger clattering to the floor. The large man tried to grab him, but he darted past, squeezing though the armored men. They shouted loudly grabbing at him, but he tore through the chaos. One of the soldiers gripped his arm, but Alex bit down on his meaty hand. The man swore and jerked his hand away roughly.
Alex stumbled out of the group, and sprinted out of the manor. He ran back through the marketplace, hoping to lose the guards. People yelled angrily as he pushed through them. The baker saw him coming and ran out to stop him. Alex barreled into his chest, scrambling to get past.
The baker held him fast, trying to calm him down. “Alex, what’s wrong? What is happening?”
Alex looked up at him, his eyes filled with tears, “I didn’t do it.”
The soldiers lurched to a halt in front of them, and wrenched Alex away. “This boy is a murderer!”
“And just who did he murder?” the stout baker bristled.
“The Armastav family,” came the reply.
“He’s all but kin to the family,” the baker guffawed. “You can’t honestly believe he killed them.”
The soldier merely sneered and hauled the terrified boy away. The baker hurled after him, but was restrained by two armored bodies.
“Father!” Alex shrieked.
“Son!” the baker cried.
* * *
Alex shook with fear, rattling the chains around his filthy hands and feet. A large man roughly shoved him forward. Alex shuffled through the crowd that had filled the courtyard. The people parted for him, recoiling from his touch. Someone whispered his name, and he looked up with dull, haunted eyes. His father, the baker, stared back at the young boy despondently. A woman stood next to him, crying onto his shoulder. Mother… Alex thought, his heart aching. Tears ran down the baker’s face he passed one last hot roll to his son.
Alex caught it clumsily as he tripped over the first step to the gibbet. The executioner caught the back of his tattered shirt, and dragged him up onto the stage. He trembled and peered up at the noose hanging above his head. The hangman planted a rotted barrel under the noose, and boosted Alex on to it. Alex flinched away from the thick rope as it was yanked around his neck. A loud sob was inadequately stifled from the crowd around him. Dimly he heard a nasally voice read his offense. “…the murder of noble blood…”
It took him a few seconds to find his voice. “I’m innoc…”
Alex dropped, the hot roll falling to the ground.
